Gauntlet: Redemption
by Cap'n Chryssalid
Summary: (Complete) For months, Brick kept his brothers in the dark about their origins. For over a year, the girls acted out of ignorance. Finally: Truth. Finally: Revelation. And, perhaps, Redemption. (Sequel to Gauntlet: Diaspora)
1. Default Chapter

Like a good communist, I own nothing.

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"Gauntlet: Redemption"  
Part 1

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Cold cutting March rain came with the morning. Blossom silently cursed it as she stepped out of the car, flanked by two ever-present bodyguards. The sky was a looming carpet of dark, and the sun only shone through at erratic intervals. Still, her work did not discriminate between night and day, nor ran or shine. A young man, possibly in his mid twenties, ran out, an umbrella extended overhead to keep her as dry as possible.

"The Director expresses his apologies for the delay, Ms. Utonium." The young man apologized, sincerely.

"What was it this time?"

"An attempted escape, Ma'am."

"An escape?" Blossom's eyebrows raised a fraction in concern. "Was anyone... involved?"

"No, ma'am. We don't believe so."

"Security is of paramount concern. The wait was simply an inconvenience." Blossom walked past the towering iron gates with her entourage, as the rain poured down at a steady, unrelenting pace. Her heels occasionally splashed in a stray puddle, so she walked slowly and carefully. There was little rush.

The doors to the Asylum opened, and she stepped inside.

The young man drifted off, and headed outside again, but Blossom's bodyguards stayed with her every step as she ventured deeper into the stale labyrinth of halls and honeycombed cells. An elevator, and a flight of steps, provided access to the deepest and darkest; to the most secure of cages meant to cage men. Abruptly, it opened up into a large area, a virtual cavern cut out of the bedrock.

Blossom's bodyguards stopped, and stood just outside the final door. They would not enter the cavern - she would not want them. More importantly, HE would not want them. A large blast door closed behind her, once again shutting the cavern off from the outside world, and leaving Blossom's defenders out of sight. Still, she fearlessly approached the center of the cavern, to the faintly glowing 'glass' cube that was the only remarkable thing to be seen. Its interior was decorated by a variety of things: A small abstract portrait, a well-stocked bookcase, and several rows of detailed sculptures...

In a wooden chair, a figure sat, his back to her.

"Ah... how nice to see you again, my little muse. My Mneme." The figure turned slightly in his chair, deep red eyes blinking appreciatively at her. He wore a simple short-sleeved white textured shirt, and black formal pants over an adult body, well oiled for combat, and designed specifically for destruction. He was a coiled cobra, both at ease and ready to strike at a moment's weakness.

"Hello, Brick." Blossom picked up one of two foldout chairs on the floor, and set it up. Sitting down, she crossed her legs, and Brick smiled.

"You look very nice today, Blossom." He didn't face her completely, but preferred to keep at least part of his face hidden from view at all times. "The scarf compliments your eyes perfectly."

"Thank you." Blossom reached down and felt the pink scarf around her neck. It was silk between her fingers, untouched by the rain outside. Everything else she wore was her normal attire: a business suit and skirt, midnight blue.

"Hmmm." Brick slowly closed his eyes and turned away a little more. "For what reason have you graced me, little muse?"

"You know why."

"The Game." A smile crept up the corner of his mouth. "They're still playing the Game, and you don't know what the Rules are. You don't even know what the Goal is. You won't get your answers... your enlightenment... from me, Bloss."

"Why? Why won't you tell me?"

Brick said nothing.

Blossom started to scowl. He was always like this.

"Answer me, Brick!"

"No." The red Rowdyruff shook his head. "I may not be able to... prevaricate... here... but I can equivocate. I do not believe you need to know such a thing, so I shall simply not say anything." His tone grew slightly agitated. "You've drawn enough water from this rock already, little muse."

"Let's change the topic then."

"Very well." Brick's eyes wandered over the confines of his cell. The irony made him smile. "I don't have anything else to do... at the moment."

"Why did you save me?"

"Save you?" Brick started to laugh softly. He'd been waiting for her to ask that. "I simply wanted you for myself."

Blossom drew back. This wasn't what she had expected as an answer.

"W... what?" She asked. "What do you mean?"

Nothing.

Brick looked away, at the ceiling.

"Answer me, Brick." Her voice wasn't demanding - it was pleading. She needed to know. It was eating her alive. She saw a tiny wrinkle of tension over his body, betraying that tiny spark of kindness and caring and compassion that still resided within him. "Please. Please, Brick... why?"

He gritted his teeth.

"Please... why did you save me?"

"Aa..." He opened his mouth, held back, but eventually relented. "I would not have you die..."

Blossom leaned in closer, as Brick's voice became softer.

His eyes caught her movement.

"I have seen the face of death, little muse..." His voice grew a tad softer, and Blossom leaned in ever closer to the transparent wall that separated them. Then, with total suddenness, he was out of his chair, and slammed into the glass barrier. Blossom's heart missed a beat, and she fell back from the shock and speed of his movement. Landing on her fanny, undignified, she looked up and saw him standing calming behind the glass, chuckling softly, arms crossed.

"Red," He said, after a second or so.

"Red?" Blossom's mind worked - 'Red' was Boomer's nickname for her. Brick had never used it before.

"Your panties. They're red." Brick smirked, but at least looked away for a moment while Blossom quickly covered herself and got back to her feet.

"Bastard!" She spat, and started fixing her clothes, trying to regain her dignity. The neat bun that had been her hair was tousled, too.

"A bastard has a mother." Brick inclined his head, and quickly turned his whole back to her. His tone subtly indicated a measure of lost control. It occurred to her it wasn't something he had wanted to say: he had blurted it out.

Mother.

Did Brick want a mother? She knew he didn't really consider anyone his 'parents.' Mojo was more of a father figure, and working associate, to Brick. She also suspected that the Rowdyruff both hated and deeply respected Professor Utonium, though the reasons for either of those two emotions were unclear. There really had never been much in Brick's life in the way of parents.

"Do you... wish you had parents, Brick?" She sat down, and waited for his response. "Do you?" She asked again, after a few seconds.

"Do ...you?" Brick returned with a question of his own. He was dancing around the topic, but at least acknowledging it. To Blossom, this was a step in the right direction.

"Sometimes. The Professor is... he's kind of like our father and our mother at the same time. He loves us, and that's what matters. And there's Ms. Bellum and Ms. Keane..."

Brick's expression grew solemn.

Finally, he snorted loudly and closed his eyes.

"Do you?" Blossom asked, for a third time.

"I am..." He started, but paused. After a handful of tense moments, he admitted what she already knew. "... yes."

"Do you want to talk about it? Tell me about it?"

"No!" Brick snarled, rage replacing the tension he had exhibited just instants before in admitting his weakness.

"You can trust me, Brick." Blossom pursed her lips. "Why don't you trust me?"

"It's not about trust, Bloss." Brick finally faced her, and put one hand up against the glass. "It's about love. I love you enough to tell you only what you need to know. I'm protecting you, little muse, and I never expected gratitude for it."

"You're endangering everyone's lives."

"True. However, the ends justify the means. Especially in this case." He backed up a few feet, so the shade of his body covered part of his face again. "I believe I've said enough today. ... Leave."

"No." Blossom reached into her breast pocket, and took out a small strip of purple cloth, torn and dirty. "Tell me about this."

Nothing.

"Tell me!"

Slowly, Brick backed up, ever more into the darkness. "I will do no such thing."

"Tell me, damn it!" Blossom took a few steps forward, trying to keep as much of his expression illuminated as possible. "How did you know about her? You weren't alive! She died less than an hour...!"

"You don't know anything!" Brick cut her off, his voice harsher than she'd ever heard. "Especially about her. You selfish... thoughtless bitches... you have no idea what your actions led to... no fucking clue..."

"Brick...?"

"But maybe..." He faced her, eyes blazing a terrible white. "Maybe I'll show you!"

"What are... no!" Blossom stumbled back, as Brick drew back a fist, and crashed through the glass barrier in a storm of crystal and pulsing electric energy. Blossom's left heel twisted, and she fell back just as he jumped on her, hands pinning her upper arms. She blinked, and saw Brick's face, twisted and contorted in rage. He was angry - a detached, heartless, dangerous anger he rarely showed.

But how was this possible?

He'd never been able to break out before! He'd never been so strong that she couldn't will him back into some semblance of compliance. Was it possible... was it outside the realm of possibility that he'd been hiding his power and knowledge? Not at all, really, but she had thought herself prepared, when she obviously had not been.

But... why?

Why was he so angry?

She blinked, and she was somewhere else entirely.

It was an island - lush, tropical, beautiful. She felt the presence of someone, from the side, and it brought a mixture of comfort and contentment. What felt like a hand reached out, and there was physical contact. Slowly turning, to face this companion, she drew back...

And screamed.

They sat across from each other.

"How?"

Brick didn't answer.

"How can this be?"

Slowly, he got to his feet, and spoke. "At heart, every man and woman is a an animal, Blossom. A beast. What do you suppose that makes us?"

She shut her eyes. This wasn't what she wanted to hear. Even if it was true, she didn't want to hear it!

"In your soul, my little muse... you... me... all of our kind... are monsters." Brick's tone was calm, collected. Yet, he was telling the absolute truth. He could not lie to her within her own mind.

"How does it feel, Blossom?" He continued, brutally. "How does it feel to have killed so many of your own? Does it twist at your delicate threads of human sentimentality? Does it irk your too-human morality?" He scoffed. "We're little different, you and I, except that I know what I'm doing, and you simply follow orders and impulse... Sit! Stand! Beg! ...Kill."

"A tool of lower life forms." Brick finished. "How sad. I've always pitied you for that. But I never hated you, Blossom." He looked down at her, eyes fierce with determination. "I never hated you... even after what you did to me... to my brothers... to her... to our kind. I never hated you. ...I never will." He held out his hand.

She looked up at him, entranced by his face.

By the emotion in his eyes.

This was the true Brick. This was the boy, twisted and hurt and burned by the world, that hid behind his cold exterior. He was like fire: a passion and a belief so strong it transcended anything she had ever come close to. She was in awe of it.

"Take my hand, Blossom. Take my hand, and I will show you the secrets... the secrets of what we... WE... are. Take my hand."

Slowly, she reached up.

And took his hand.

"That's a good girl." Brick smiled, as his hand met hers. He helped her up, and she was reminded of the strength he wielded. But carefully - never in excess. That, more than anything, seemed to be his mantra. Even such a simple act, like helping her to her feet, he did efficiently.

"Explain... explain what I saw." She pulled her hand out of his grip, suddenly a bit embarrassed.

"Of course." Brick turned slightly away, and locked his hands behind his lower back. "The creature you saw... the monster... was the girl you created and named 'Bunny.' Yet, just as much so, it was not. Let me begin with what passed for a beginning..."

He took a deep breath, and almost seemed to have second thoughts about continuing. Yet continue he ultimately did.

"I did not initially know who I was... I simply was. One of them. After my body was destroyed, and my components scattered to the winds, the Chemical X within me continued to exist, in a pure and refined form... It was un-patterned, of course..."

"Un-patterned?"

"Chemical X is..." Brick sighed. "It is difficult to describe. It is a sort of super-reactant. A catalyst. Think of it as Thought and Willpower - raw Sentience given form. 'I think therefore I am.' It reacts to sequences of ingredients. Add some sugar, spice, and everything nice, and you get instant girls... or something that appears close enough to pass itself off as a girl."

"The Professor said we were accidents..."

Brick scoffed. "Mojo told me the story. He pushed the Professor..." A sharp laugh. "Do you honestly believe that the Chemical X was just there, hanging over the mixture, purely by accident? Oh, I have no doubt that the amount of Chemical X used to create you girls was an accident, but that he had never intended to use it at all? Don't make me laugh. Your father is eccentric, but no fool."

Blossom shook her head. Of course. Of course. It had been so obvious.

"The Chemical X that was me... that was Brick... was not destroyed. It persisted, and lingered, and traveled, until it eventually found a new set of ingredients. Who knows what those were... a cockroach, a beer can, a discarded wrapper... it doesn't matter. The result was obvious. Instant Monster."

"Which one were you?"

Brick smirked, and pointed at his hair. It was a shade of orange.

"That was you?!"

"Big and orange." Brick nodded. "That was me. I wandered into the city... you can't imagine the thought processes of what I had become... the body was wholly different, and with my memories and most of what made me, me, repressed, I did not know better. I was like an animal, acting largely on instinct. After a time, I chose to leave - the experience had awakened within me strange sensations and memories I did not know how to deal with or comprehend."

"And Bunny..."

"Was the other creature. The one you saw." Brick's smirk turned into an actual smile. "That huge, hideous thing... yes, it was her. And when I laid eyes on her, following an instinctual drive towards Monster Island, I felt... attraction... an animal attraction I cannot explain. I had to have her... and even in that form, what I wanted, I took!"

Blossom grimaced at the thought.

"Other males challenged me - they tried to impress her with boasts about battles they'd had against you girls. Truth be told, many of the creatures took great pleasure in fighting you girls... you were, of course, quite ugly to them, and far too small for mating purposes, but you had great breeding potential because of your power." Brick looked at her, pleased to see that she found the very thought repulsive.

"They could smell their own." Brick added.

Blossom frowned at that. "Buttercup, maybe."

"Regardless, I took what I wanted, and she was what I wanted. We became mates... lovers..." Brick's voice didn't waver at the word. "You are, perhaps, wondering how such a thing suits me now."

"It crossed my mind."

"The memories... are complex. Understand that I... may have loved her. Understand that the moments we had together were the faint light of bliss in a life of darkness and pain. I treasure them... and yet I am now repulsed by them." He shook his head. "I'm drifting off topic. When we were together, there was a certain something akin to when I had battled you girls. I sensed a similarity. Exploring that led to hints of memories... hints of the past... I shared my concerns with my mate, as she was feeling these things as well. Together, we delved into our minds, and shared what we found."

"There were no lies between us." Brick paused. "Our minds would not have conceived of such a thing. Yet, as our awareness began to increase, and our sense of self became more sharply defined, we could not share so complete a mental connection. At that moment, when the project we had begun became the project I was committed to, there came... Revelation. All at once, a flood of memories, and sentience..."

Brick's body tensed up.

"Bunny seemed to have it as well. We retreated, minds aflame, into a sort of hibernation... concentrating what we were in an attempt to restore ourselves. We recreated ourselves, literally. The next memory I have is clawing my way out of what had once been my body. When I reached the surface, I looked... I looked for her." Brick crushed his eyes shut. "When I found her... she was halfway out of her body... halfway to freedom... the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen."

"But... she..." Blossom caught herself.

Brick whirled on Blossom, and touched her on the arm, gently. In her mind's eye, the pink Powerpuff saw what Brick remembered. A girl, Blossom's actual age, a Powerpuff, with light purple hair and two long bangs that draped over her perfect face. She wore the slightly darker purple version of the Powerpuff dress, though her lower half seemed to still be inside the body of the ...thing that she had been. Oddly, there was no blood.

"What happened?" Blossom asked, in barely a whisper.

"She is not how you remember her. This was how she imagined herself to be... how she wanted to be..." Brick pulled his hand back, and the image slowly faded. "She and I... we both kept our memories from before. We didn't know better... I... I... managed to deal with it... to rationalize it... to bury it... but Bunny..." He took a deep breath. "She couldn't. She couldn't..."

Blossom was suddenly reminded, once again, of the image she had managed to take from his mind when they had been merged: A scrap of purple cloth, with a hint of black on the edge, slowly floating down to rest on a pool of red blood. She gasped, and drew back. Brick pivoted, just enough to watch her do so.

"You...?"

"A mercy killing." Brick's face was set in stone. "One of a great many."

"No... no you can't... can't mean..."

"Someone had to clean up the mess you girls left behind." Brick turned away again. "In me... what was left of that precious humanity you so cherish was... drowned... in a flood of blood and tears a long time ago."

"What about Boomer... and Butch...?"

"My dear brothers..." Brick seemed to trail off at the mention of them. "They have no memory of what they were. I had to tear them free myself, one after another, and craft their bodies with my mind alone. I made them. I made myself. I have no mother. I have no father. I have only myself."

She took a step forward, and carefully reached out to touch his shoulder - to reassure him: to reach him. "No, Brick... you have me..."

He started to laugh. "Yes. I do, don't I?"

"Brick...?"

"Ah, my little muse..." Brick's left hand rested on her own. "My Mneme. There are only two more tests... two more... Our kind is so close to our destiny..."

"I still don't understand..."

"Nor do I wish you to." He suddenly turned, and pulled her in close against him. He leaned in closer, his breath mixing with hers, and his body seemed to envelop and surround her in its embrace.

"You'll know what to do when the time comes. Blossom." His tone was appreciative, complimenting; she felt her whole body tense and relax at the same time. "I have faith in two things only: myself... and you. But for the moment... you're needed elsewhere."

Breathlessly, she watched as his face drew closer. Something soft and electric touched her lips, and her eyes snapped open. Nearly blinded by the light, she gasped for air, and instead inhaled some sort of thick viscous liquid. Groping sightlessly for some means of escape, she heard a hissing sound, and suddenly a flush of cold air hit her in the face, and she fell forward.

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"W...w... wa...?" Blossom struggled to find her voice.

"Welcome back to the land of the living." Bubbles looked down at her sister. In the crook of her arm, the plush doll that was Octi expressed its concern.

"She seems different. I sense something odd about her," It said, softly. Bubbles didn't acknowledge it, and the doll silently sulked. The future was uncertain enough without added... concerns. After all, things had worked out well enough so far.

Blossom stared up at her sister, into her eyes. There was something... off about them. But before Blossom could delve deeper into whatever was the problem, Bubbles turned away, looking down at the plush toy octopus in her arms. Blossom slowly raised her hand to her lips.

They were warm - flush.

For the first time, Blossom was beginning to understand.


	2. Gauntlet: Redemption part 2

Like a good communist, I own nothing.

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"Gauntlet: Redemption"  
Part 2

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January was typically a cold month, but here and now, it seemed even more so. Butch reflected on the biting sting of the wind, and grew his drab cloak more tightly about his body. Over his shoulder, he carried a sack of firewood, tied together by rags. High above, the full moon cast long shadows over the land, and as he walked, Butch alternated between darkness and twilight light.

He was a 'wave-man.'

He was Ronin.

At his side, a carefully wrapped bundle slapped lightly against his hip, reminding him of his past and his obligation - of his damnation and honor. In the interplay of light and dark that surrounded him and pervaded the world, Butch saw anew his life's story. He had danced the fine line that life had dealt him, between thug and warrior, between murderer and soldier. He lived to fight. He fought to live. Yet there was more to it than that.

He killed for honor.

He struck for a purpose.

That purpose, that honor, those ideals, were not his own. They were those of the only man, beast or monster he had ever been willing to take dictation from. They were the words of his brother, his liege lord: Brick. Since the beginning, from Butch's earliest memories, Brick had been their leader and their inspiration. Even after their death, it was Brick that had somehow brought them back, and nursed his brothers back to health. How Brick had done this was unclear, but the red Rowdyruff's secrets were his own to bear. Butch and Boomer knew this well, and respected it, even as they resented it.

Brick was dead.

The ideals were dead.

Butch dropped the wood in the clearing he had put up camp in, and made ready a small fire to keep warm through the night. He had been a samurai - a warrior of honor and discipline - now he was nothing. Now he had nothing. He had lost all honor the moment he turned against his liege lord, and played a direct hand in his fall. Butch had always believed in the primacy of strength, as had Brick. Yet he had fallen defending those weaker than him...

The memories nearly brought the young Ronin to tears.

He had been corrupted. By power. By affection. By companionship. By Her. With Brick gone, with his general dead, what was left for the soldier to fight for? Butch had been given the burden of avenging his master's name, yet at the same time following the orders and Plan that Brick had lived by. On one side, Butch had his obligation to avenge Brick's death, and fulfill his honor, yet also there was the matter of loyalty to the Ideals...

Butch silently remembered every word, and every action, Brick had made.

They were his inspiration.

They were his liege lords, now.

Still, however, his honor was tainted. Their Father... Mojo Jojo... had in full paid for his part in the crime: with his life. Butch knew his ultimate redemption would be in seeing Brick's Ideals to their end, whatever that was destined to be, and then, in death, he would fulfill his personal honor. Such a thing was only a matter of time. There was, however, one other aspect to things.

Her.

Buttercup.

What, he had wondered, was her punishment to be? What fate was fitting for her? She, who had tempted and corrupted him with her spirit, and her fire, and her independence? It tore his heart in twine to see her as he had: broken and fearful, and then... then... Butch closed his eyes, and slowly warmed his hands on the now crackling fire.

She had died.

He had died.

Or had he?

He opened his eyes and looked around. This was not the Hell he remembered. This was not the fate of death that plagued his deepest, darkest dreams. When he had died, the first time, destroyed by that same Greeneyes that had damned him a second time, he had been cast into the very animalistic pits of Gehenna itself. He did not really remember it, so much as a primal instinct, a mixture of fear and hatred and rage, remained forever within him, like a caged beast straining at its bonds.

He was not, yet, in Hell.

Was he lingering, Butch wondered, between the darkness and the light?

A crackle came, but not from the fire. At the faint sound of a foot stepping on hard fallen leaves, Butch jumped to his feet, and reached to his side. Gleaming steel glittered against the half-light as he drew out an inch of his katana, the cresting wave of the yakiba along its length easily visible from the hilt to where it dipped into the scabbard. He was Ronin; a broken man, but he was far from defenseless.

And, in sudden realization, he was afraid: afraid to be cast back into those dark blazing depths. He was not ready to embrace oblivion. He was not ready, just yet, to completely fulfill his honor, and let his mind and soul slip away... forever this time. Out of the shadows, a cloaked figure stepped into the clearing and reached up to its face.

In a single motion, Buttercup swept back her hood.

"You!" Butch snarled. His eyes narrowed, and the grip on his sword's hilt tightened in readiness to strike.

"Butch."

"What are you doing here?" The green Rowdyruff took a step towards the apparition. "On second thought, I don't care why you're here. Just leave."

"I can't do that, Butch." Buttercup's voice held a touch of anger. "We have to talk."

"FUCK TALKING!" Butch whirled, and in a heartbeat his katana was out of its scabbard, and pressed up against her neck. "You ruined my life... you turned me into a... a..." Butch choked at the word, and skipped over it. "You can't imagine how much I despise you."

Buttercup didn't move. She hadn't imagined that hearing those words would hurt so much, but she knew he didn't truly mean it. Brick's death had hurt Butch - it had hurt him terribly, and he blamed himself. He was lashing out at everyone and everything. She had almost done the same thing.

Her depression had been overpowering. She could admit now, however, that yes: she had wanted, on some subconscious level, to defeat Brick, and repay him for the humiliation she suffered at his hands. She could admit that a part of her reveled in causing pain. She had a dark side. Everyone did. At the same time, she knew that she didn't want to kill Brick, regardless of what he had done to her. There was a firm moral line that she would never cross.

Where, then, had Butch/Buttercup's rage come from? It had been a shared mind, and a shared experience. She remembered: _"LIAR! You always lie...! Always! ALWAYS! But never again! NEVER, do you hear us!?"_

Butch.

Butch, she knew, held Brick on a pedestal. He was Butch's commanding officer - he made the rules and guidelines that Butch felt he could comfortably operate in. Without these boundaries, she suspected that Butch felt his darker aspects growing bolder. Butch needed rules to keep his personal demons at bay. Yet, at the same time, Brick was secretive and guarded, at all times. Boomer, too, had likely come to understand and even dislike this fundamental trait in his brother, but Butch had always known it.

Having boundaries was one thing, but being caged was another.

They were both, in a way, at fault. Yet, they were neither truly responsible. She had to made Butch understand that. Buttercup wasn't sure why she was here, or where here was... She had been dreaming, and more importantly: thinking. She had been thinking about the last few months, about everything she had done, about what had happened. Her Dreams had not been ones of playing sports, or kicking monster butt, like they had been before... Was she even the same Buttercup anymore, after all that had happened?

"Do you mean that, Butch?" She asked, eyes sparkling with tears nearly shed, before composing herself. "But what does it matter now, anyway? We're dead, after all."

A moment passed.

"I... I suppose." He drew the weapon back, turned it about, and sheathed it. He seemed about to say something else, but instead turned away from her to look at the fire.

Sulking, Buttercup realized.

He'd been sulking all this time.

She sat down, in front of the fire, and stared at the lapping flames. She couldn't force him to talk, not about this sort of thing; it would only make him withdraw. He needed to want to talk. He needed to want to open that side of himself that was weakness and regret and pain. Looking into the flames, Buttercup almost smirked when she realized she'd likely be here, with him, for a very long time, if that were the case.

"You shouldn't be here," Butch finally said.

"You already told me you don't want me here."

"I mean..." Butch paused, and didn't continue his sentence.

"What?" Buttercup asked. "...What?"

"I mean... I wonder what will happen to you girls, now? As far as I know, those things didn't catch Bubbles... The Professor could probably recreate you when he figures out what happened from her."

"Like you guys?"

"Yeah... I suppose."

"What do you mean, you suppose?"

"I'm not... entirely sure how Brick recreated us." A detected in his voice a small bit of resentment and then sadness. "He never talked about it much."

"What do you think?"

"Maybe he survived Blossom's lip-lashing and..."

"Nope." Buttercup cut him off. "I saw him go up, just like you and Boomer."

"Mojo could have recreated him..."

"Only him?"

"He joked about time travel once..."

"That sounds more like a bad Star Trek episode."

"Ah..." Butch sighed. "I dunno. Don't really care."

A lie, Buttercup knew instantly. She and Butch shared a unique understanding, and a trust. The latter of those two had been shattered by their bonding/merging experience, but the former had been magnified. Of the three mergings, Butch/Buttercup had been the most powerful, and the most perfect. Boomer/Bubbles had destroyed herself and split up, despite Boomer and Bubbles 'close' relationship, though Buttercup wasn't totally sure why (Bubbles avoided answering the question when it came up). Finally Brick/Blossom, to hear Blossom explain it, had been more of a conflict between minds for control than a sharing.

'To answer: the merging is a unity-ity.'

A lie. Brick had likely been in control.

'The variables are subsumed-umed, but still conscious and separate, still whole-ole.'

The truth. Blossom, then. The merging had been a strange experience for all of them, and Buttercup wondered, off hand, what it would have been like if they had done as Brick had initially planned, and NOT pared off with their counterparts. She quickly shook her head, and came back to the present topic of conversation.

"Butch..." She took a deep breath, and boldly asked, "Do you want to talk about...?"

"Brick?" Butch finished for her. "No." A few seconds later. "maybe."

"Butch..." Buttercup reached to take his hand, but he flinched and pulled away. She had suspected he'd do that, after everything that had happened between them, but it still hurt.

"S... sorry." Butch looked down at his hand. He was quicker to apologize than Buttercup had been, when he felt it necessary. Buttercup had always been loathe to admit that she had been wrong in anything - Butch simply preferred not to make mistakes, but when he did, he didn't hesitate to face that mistake and admit err.

"Tell me how you feel about your brother, Butch."

"Yeah... ah..." Butch ran a hand through his unkempt black hair. "I... I dunno. I'm no good at this stuff."

"Let me ask something else, then. Why do you blame yourself for what happened?"

"What do you mean: why? It is my fault." He paused. "Yours too. Everyone... everyone is responsible for what happened to Brick."

She looked at him sympathetically. "How so?"

"He..." Butch shook his head. "No one ever cared... Mojo never cared... Boomer and Bubbles didn't do anything to stop us... Blossom was too weak and indecisive... and we... I... I killed my own brother, for Christ's sake! A part of me was... was..."

"Angry?" She ventured. "Angry because Brick kept you in the dark? Like he did to everyone? Angry because he didn't trust you enough to tell you everything? Angry... because he was better than you?"

Butch scowled at her. Buttercup was especially conscious of that last statement. That Brick had been the best fighter of all of them was almost a non-question. He wasn't stronger, or faster... he was just better. Smarter. Despite Butch's healthy competition with his brother, yes: there had been a measure of jealousy and anger at always being the challenger and never the titleholder.

"No."

Buttercup blinked, confused, at his reply.

"No," He said again, more forcefully. "That's not it. I want to be the best... I want to be the best fighter there is... but as much as I hated playing second fiddle to Brick, I sort of liked it too. It was a goal. Something to reach for." He tilted his head, and smiled a bit. "Besides, better my own brother than some stranger... It... it..."

Buttercup led him on. "What?"

"It was the lies." Butch's smile disappeared completely, and he looked deeply into the flames of the fire, slowly warming his hands. "It was the lies... I just... don't understand. Why he didn't trust me. ... I trusted him, you know. I trusted him with my life."

Buttercup listened. She listened as Butch said nothing. He just looked from the fire, to her. What he expected to see, she wasn't sure, but she knew he was afraid to see pity. Pity meant he was weak. Weakness meant he wasn't Butch. He was the first to blink, and let out a small sigh.

Caring.

He had seen caring.

Not pity.

Not amusement.

Just concern.

"I hope..." He paused, as if to stop, but kept going. "I hope we're not dead. I... I don't want to die, Buttercup. I don't want you to die. You deserve to live. You deserve to be happy." He gritted his teeth: the words hurt to say. "We never should have come back... we've brought nothing but pain to everyone... we deserve..."

"Butch!"

He looked up at her, eyes glistening.

"Shut up." Buttercup was angry. Raging. "Don't say that! I've never regretted anything more than ...killing you." She clenched her fists. "I didn't think of it... I didn't want to think of it... until you guys came back. Everyone deserves a chance at life. Everyone."

Butch turned away, ashamed.

"Don't say you don't deserve to live." Buttercup reached out, took his shoulders, and forced him to look at her, face to face. "Don't think that! I... I couldn't bear it. I couldn't stand it."

"Hey," He started to say, and reached up, his hand on hers. "Calm down, ok, Greeneyes?"

"Butch..." She gulped, and decided it was too late to turn back from what she had wanted to ask him for weeks now. "Butch, do you like me?"

"..." His face softened. "Yeah. I like ya."

"Thanks." She had needed to hear that. Not just wanted to: she had needed to.

"Even if you are a tomboy."

"Gee... thanks." She pulled him in with a jerk, and rubbed her fist into his scalp. "Noogie!"

"Hey! You're messing up my hair!!" Butch was starting to struggle, to try and get away, when his movements slowed. He blinked, hard, and the fire and the forest were gone. Replaced by a thick liquid that filled his lungs, and pushed all other taste from his mouth. Hacking and coughing, he reached out into the liquid darkness, trying to swim out, but his hands instead hit some sort of metal. Near panic, he was about to try blasting his way out with his eye beams, when a sudden suction and hissing sound filled his ears, and the liquid was gone. He fell forward, and into the light...

* * *

"Ahhhh..."

The raven-haired Rowdyruff let out a long sigh of contentment, as he felt the shampoo in his hair mingle with the hot water. He still felt kind of slimy, but the water would wash it all away. It was a very small price to pay for being brought back from near death. Vigorously washing his hair, he tried his best to make sure that he had gotten all of the goop out.

He was alive.

Butch couldn't help himself. He smiled, broadly, and held his chin up, letting the water run down his face and the length of his body. He was alive! It felt so good! So damn good!

Buttercup was alive.

Bubbles was alive.

Blossom was alive.

Boomer was alive!

Butch silently thanked whatever god might be listening for that last one. Boomer hadn't 'woken up' yet, but he was in stable condition. Tracing a line down his sternum, Butch found a small soft spot left where two of his ribs had been broken in the last fight. The area was still a little tender, but the bone had repaired itself. Closing his eyes, he remembered snippets of the fight.

_His fist, turning the false Buttercup's face into something approaching silly putty._

_Smashing the psuedo-Bubbles into the ground hard enough to liquefy the asphalt._

_Breaking the other Blossom's head and neck in several places._

_Tearing his fist out of the Boomer copy's mouth._

_Crushing his own chest slowly, purposefully..._

Shaking his head, he realized he'd been frowning. That brutality... that animal rage... it was a part of him. It was in his nature, just as it was his responsibility to keep that side of himself in check. He had been wrong to rely on others, to rely on anyone but himself, to set the standard he had to live by.

He saw that now.

Only... he wasn't entirely sure he wanted that kind of responsibility. He wasn't sure he could set rules for himself, and abide by them. It was far harder than just following orders, but it was also... better. Maybe.

Rinsing the last of the suds out of his hair, he turned down the heat, and cut off the water. Floating out of the bathtub, he reached for a nearby towel, and started drying himself off. There were, technically, faster and better ways to dry himself off. Boomer could spin around quickly enough to splatter water everywhere and dry himself off, and Brick knew how to make his body vibrate enough to shake the water off, but Butch preferred to take his time with a towel, just like everyone else in the world did.

Dry and clean, he wrapped the towel around his waist, and looked in the mirror at himself. More than before, he didn't so much like what he saw, but he accepted it. He was who he wanted to be. He could grow; he could be something more and something better, if he wanted to. If he applied himself.

He would apply himself.

He would live.

He would be happy, again.

Combing his hair with his hand until it looked somewhat presentable, he opened the door and floated into the hall. A gust of cold air hit Butch in the face: literally freezing compared to the steamy aftermath of his shower. Looking down the corridor, he heard the faint sound of someone in the other bathroom - the girls' bathroom.

She, like her sisters, preferred baths to showers, though with Buttercup, perhaps 'preferred' wasn't the right word. Curious, and a bit bold, he drifted towards the sounds, but stopped just outside the slightly ajar door. Knocking on it with the back of his hand, he called out.

"Hey, you in there, Greeneyes? You decent? I... um..."

"It's ok." He heard her voice.

"Ok. I'm... coming in..." He pushed the door open a bit more, and side stepped inside. He saw Buttercup - at least her head - sticking out of the water. She looked annoyed.

'Hopefully with the bath,' He thought. He also noticed Blossom and Bubbles, both clothed, standing next to the tub. Suddenly, the fact that he was alone with all three of these girls, without his brothers to support or back him up, he became... nervous.

"Ah... I just wanted to make sure..."

"I'm fine," Buttercup answered, quickly.

"Were you really...?" He didn't finish the sentence, but implied its meaning: 'Where you really in my dreams? ...In my mind? Was I in yours?'

She knew what he was talking about. "Yeah."

"What?" Blossom asked, breaking into the conversation.

"Nothin'" Butch coughed. "Well, I'll just be... going now..."

He quickly ducked out of the bathroom, and headed down the hall, when he heard someone come up behind him. Turning slightly, he saw a certain familiar redhead.

"Blossom."

"Yeah." She crossed her arms. "Butch I..."

"Don't go there," He said, gruffly. Butch really wasn't in the mood to hear her try and convince him to be 'part of the team.'

"I have to. Its my job." She sighed. "Its what I do."

"Well don't."

"Butch..." She took a step towards him, arms out. "Look, I just want you to cooperate with me."

He snorted. "Cooperate? Is this a joke?"

"I know... I'm not trying to replace Brick..."

"Damn straight you're not."

"But I am trying to keep things together. I'm not asking for blind obedience. I'm not asking for an oath of fealty. All I want... all I want is a chance. All I want is for you to work with me. Not for me."

"Work... with you?" He sneered, but at the look in her eyes, his sneered dampened. "I... I dunno... maybe."

"Thanks." She smiled. "Thanks. You won't regret it."

Holding his towel around his waist, Butch dismissed her with a wave of his hand. He really wasn't in the mood for all this. He still wasn't sure exactly what was going on... and just as importantly, why Buttercup had, indeed, been in his coma-dream. It shouldn't have been possible. Butch had never shared a dream with his brothers. Why now? Why with her?

Boomer would recover soon.

Hopefully, he'd get some answers then.


	3. Gauntlet: Redemption part 3

Insert worthless not legally binding in court disclaimer stuff here. Like a good communist, I own nothing.

* * *

"Gauntlet: Redemption"  
Part 3

* * *

"Leg hook to elbow combination, straight arm blow to the chest, hamstring."

Butch stepped forward, and the practice holographic Dummy struck at him. Butch leaned to the side, slid one foot forward and behind his opponent's forward leg, and scissored. As the Dummy fell forward, he elbowed it in the side of the face, straightened out his arm, soft-backhanding it, and completed the scissor, snapping the Dummy's hamstring with his knee. When it fell on its back, he didn't hesitate to follow up the attack with his free hand, in the form of a hard-fisted double blow.

Stepping back, he sighed.

"Again."

The Dummy's image faded, and reset into the standing position next to him.

"Leg hook to elbow combination, straight arm blow to the chest, hamstring."

He repeated the maneuver, streamlining it slightly as familiarity and repetition kicked in. This time, as the Dummy fell backwards, he followed up with a shallow kick to the neck. Stepping back, he mentally went over the maneuver, and how he could improve it.

"Again."

The Dummy reset.

"Leg hook to elbow combination, straight..." Butch stopped in mid sentence as he heard the hissing whine of the Training Hall Door open behind him. Two small shapes interrupted the flood of light, easily distinct enough in their outlines for Butch to identify them. He stepped back, and aside, and yielded the floor to Blossom and Buttercup. The former noticed him, and inclined her head in greeting, while the latter kept her eyes on him, but made no other indication of acknowledgement.

He just watched, silently, as the girls activated a battle program with several monsters of varying size and shape. It was easily at first, for them, until the levels increased in difficulty and number of opponents. Butch watched and noted the ease and fluidity of movement, the near lack of hesitation (something was odd with Blossom, he inferred - she seemed to be pausing slightly before her attacks) ... still, it was obvious that the girls were most comfortable with fighting things much larger than themselves. Inhuman things.

Butch was the exact opposite.

There was little satisfaction when you couldn't relate to your opponent. Less satisfaction than what little he seemed to get, anyway. Why did he fight, now? Brick was gone... perhaps the world needed him to fight, so he did. Yet, that was not it. The world had so many others willing to bleed and die for it, but Butch was not one of them. Why should he owe allegiance to such a thing?

Another long sigh escaped his lips, and not one motivated by boredom.

Finally, the two Powerpuffs seemed to tire of their exercise. Both had exerted themselves fairly well, and the ground of the Training Hall was littered with bodies of innumerable creatures. Blossom ordered the system reset, and both floated over near the Training Hall Door, to the small side footlocker, where a few towels were laid out. Each took one their respective color.

Butch snorted loudly enough to get their attention.

"You could have joined in," Blossom said, noting his desire for recognition. "If you wanted to."

"Unless you're too shy." Buttercup added, with a smile.

"You always get your kicks out of that?" He motioned to where the holographic monsters used to be. "Doesn't seem like it."

"What are you suggesting?" Blossom knew already, but asked anyway.

Buttercup just threw aside her towel.

* * *

"Ow ow ow ow!"

"Blossom, please! Stop squirming!"

"But Miss Bellum...!"

"There. Done." The tall redhead stood up, holding the First Aid Spray. "Honestly: that wasn't so bad, now was it?"

"No." Blossom nursed the scrape on her arm. "I guess not."

"Ha! You're such a baby!" Buttercup laughed, holding her icepack up to her swollen cheek and left eye. Behind her, the Professor had his arms crossed, and a sour look on his face. Butch, for once, wasn't unaware of the way the two adults were looking at him.Touching his broken lip nervously, he searched for something to say.

"Butch." The Professor finally said, sternly. "Could I talk to you for a minute?"

"Um... yes, sir." Butch floated off the floor, and followed the older man as he left the room. When the two boys made their exit, Blossom cleared her throat.

"Miss Bellum?"

"Yes?" The other woman didn't have to stretch to put away the First Aid Kit that had been required after their little 'exercise' with Butch. She also wasn't wearing her normal clothes, just a plain white shirt that hung loosely on her, and jeans. She looked so... casual... it was unnerving.

"I was wondering when we'd... when we'd be able to go outside?" Blossom noticed an almost imperceptible increase in the older woman's heartbeat. Buttercup didn't, as she hadn't really been paying attention at that point, but the topic of conversation did at least interest her. She inclined her head slightly.

"Not just yet..." Miss Bellum paused a second to search for words. "It's not safe."

"But that's why we should be out there!" Blossom insisted. "There are people out there, and they need our help!"

"Yeah." Buttercup nodded, agreeing in not so many words. "It's kinda what we do."

"You can't girls." Miss Bellum leaned over slightly. "Don't you think the Professor knows best?"

"I just want to know why!" Blossom stomped her foot. "What's he waiting for?"

"You really need to tone things down a bit, Butch. I have no problems with you training with the girls... in fact, I encourage it... but what you got into was a serious fight. Someone could have been hurt very badly."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

"It's really the girls you should be apologizing to."

"I don't think they care that much, sir. They're..."

"What?"

"Frustrated. Except maybe Bubbles."

"Butch. The fact remains that you have to learn some self control, am I understood?"

"Yes, sir."

The Professor stopped, in front of a familiar door. "Don't call me sir, Butch. I'm... just call me 'Professor,' alright?"

"Yes, Professor."

Slowly opening the door to the Rejuvenation Bay, Butch saw, again, the cylinders that had held him and the others, and brought them back to life. All were open and empty, except one: Boomer's. The blue Rowdyruff had yet to awaken. Butch couldn't even see his only remaining brother behind the thick, X-ray proof metal - probably Duranium - that shielded the capsule. He did see Bubbles, however, in a small foldout metal chair, asleep, her face pressed up to the cold metal surface of Boomer's tomb.

Not tomb.

Butch wasn't totally sure what those healing cylinder things were, but tombs...

He shook his head vigorously. BAD wording.

Butch then watched as the Professor flipped open the master control panel, and went to work. He watched the man work his magic, like he had once watched Mojo work. Both scientists had a sort of deep determination to them, though their motivations were wholly different.

"Is there a problem, Professor?" Butch knew that the older man was working on reviving Boomer, and what concerned Boomer concerned Butch.

"There shouldn't be... he's healthy, physiologically. Brain waves are normal... Chemical X saturation is nominal... a little low, but in synch with what is to be expected in a comatose state."

Butch understood. He was no fool, and he could well follow many things Mojo and Brick worked on, in terms of the technical aspects. He suspected Buttercup was similarly quite intelligent... no: he knew she was intelligent, but preferred not to show it, because she wouldn't be able to upstage Blossom. He felt sorry for her in that respect. Even he didn't feel the need to compete in every aspect of his life.

"So why hasn't he woken up? And... what was that goop in there anyway?"

The Professor seemed surprised at the question. The man was obviously used to those around him not delving too deeply into the technical aspects of things. "Well... the goop, as you called it, is a modified a fluorochemical, built around basic perfluorooctyl bromide. I saturated the solution with trace amounts of Chemical X, about one part per three million, and a mixture of growth factors, that when in contact with a specific chemical reaction, in this case gas exchange in the lungs, stimulated the release and absorption of the needed chemicals into the bloodstream. The buffer solution itself then thins, and is expelled through the process of natural exhalation. The entire thing is... in a way... a natural, and very simplified, blood substitute. It wouldn't work on a normal human being, of course, not without some unfortunate side effects, but... in this case the prototypes were more than satisfactory."

"So... Boomer is physically in working condition... but he's just not waking up. Maybe... er... there's some sort of chemical imbalance?"

The Professor shook his head, sadly. "No. If only it was so simple. The only thing I can think of... is that he doesn't want to wake up."

"No." Butch barked. "Boomer's no coward! He's not... he's not afraid of facing the world. Not even after everything that's happened." Butch composed himself and crossed his arms defiantly. "I'm surprised he wasn't the first of us up and about."

"In two days... I'm going to try jolting him awake."

Something in the Professor's tone caught Butch's attention. "Jolting him awake?"

"We can't afford to wait ... A few well placed shots of electricity to the right parts of the brain should bring him around." The Professor turned to leave.

"There's something else. Something you're not telling me." Butch growled. "Please... tell me what it is. He's my brother!"

"That method... there's a chance... it could cause some brain damage." Professor Utonium's voice was soft. He had little love for the Rowdyruff Boys, especially after all they'd done, and all they could have done, but this... deep down, he wanted the blue Rowdyruff to live. The boys were changing - slowly - for the better, and his girls had come to like them, and even depend on them. Especially Bubbles. If Boomer was hurt...

Professor Utonium shook his head, clearing his thoughts.

The world was the way the world was. Sometimes.

"Remember what I told you, Butch." He added, before leaving the room.

"Yes sir." Butch corrected himself. "Professor." When the older man had left, Butch looked over his shoulder, at the cold metal tube that enshrined his brother. "Fuck."

He also noticed Bubbles still held tightly to her stupid little Octi doll, with its retarded vacant eyes, mindless grin, and idiotic hat. Something about it unnerved him, though he couldn't place just quite what. Walking over, he got a good look at the blonde Powerpuff that held the plushy to her chest.

"Bubbles..." Butch coughed, and reached out for her. "I'm sorry I couldn't... they're all... all..." Butch tasted bile, and saw that Bubbles wasn't moving. "Bubbles... what...?"

She blinked, and pushed him, hard.

He ended up on his back.

Time seemed distorted, and after closing his eyes for what seemed like only a moment, he saw a green and white blur over him. His mind denied it. His heart raged against it. No. No! NO!!

Butch blinked, and banished the memory. Flashes of that fight had been popping up every now and then, and the raven-haired Rowdyruff could feel a small headache coming on. Cautiously, he reached out, and touched Bubbles' hair. He hated to admit it, but she was very cute. Yet: he knew very little of her. And how HAD she survived those two doubles that he hadn't killed?

Butch's hand went from her hair, to the cold metal of the cylinder. "Boomer... wake up, bro. Wake up. I... I need ya'"

* * *

"Blossom..." The voice was soft, almost a whisper of a tenor. Her eyes opened, slowly adjusting to the darkness of the room. Groaning in annoyance, she looked to the side, and saw the time in bright digital light: 12:01

Rubbing her eyes, she sat up. Just as quickly, she closed her eyes, and was about to fall back to blissful sleep, when she realized that someone was missing. Opening her eyes, to her right, she could see Buttercup, sleeping lightly on her right side. The gauze patch over her hurt eye was visible, too, and her cheek's swelling had obviously receded a good deal.

Powerpuffs healed quickly.

But to Blossom's right Bubbles was nowhere to be seen. Her side of the bed was also conspicuously vacant of amenities. Buttercup had her blankie and her 'Allie' Alligator doll, Blossom didn't really have too much, but Bubbles had always liked to pile up the side of her bed with things. Recently, however, she had left the other things in a pile on the floor. The only thing she seemed to give notice to was that 'Octi' doll of hers.

'She's probably in the bathroom.' Blossom reasoned, but the fact that the door was ajar, and yet the hall lights were off, seemed to contradict that statement. Bubbles always liked the hall light on. There was no way she would want to wander around in the dark.

Or was there?

Slipping out from under the covers, Blossom headed for the door and took a look down the hall. It was even darker than normal. Before, even at night, the lights of the city and the moon would shine through the large windows in the girls' room, but with those closed and locked, under the Professor's orders, even that small bit of moonlight was gone. Still, narrowing her eyes, Blossom could see that no one was in the hall, and no water was running in the bathroom nearby.

Floating down the hall, she finally saw a crack of light from under the Professor's door. The pink Powerpuff was about to use her X-ray vision to see what was going on, when she thought about what she was doing. Like anyone else, the Professor needed his privacy. Still... the likelihood of anything going on was minimal. Without thinking about it, Blossom had already used her ultra-sensitive hearing to determine that there wasn't anything... personal going on inside.

Eyes flashing for an instant, she saw through the door and the walls, and saw the Professor awake at his desk. He was hunched over a pad of paper, and working feverously at it with a pencil. It was his small desk light that had caught her attention. On the large bed in the same room, Miss Bellum was not as plagued by insomnia. Blinking and looking down, Blossom terminated her ultravision, but not before she saw where Bubbles was.

Downstairs: In the Lab.

"Ugh. Hey... what're you doin' here, blondie?"

Butch rubbed the side of his face. He'd only been half asleep, and when the door to the Lab had opened, he'd snapped almost instantly to alertness. He'd expected to see the Professor. He'd gotten Bubbles.

She looked at him somewhat distantly. "Hello, Butchie."

"Butchie?" He half smiled at the name. "Were'd you...?"

"I couldn't sleep." Bubbles smiled at him, and with her left hand nervously played with one of her slightly ruffled pigtails. Her other arm cradled that annoying doll of hers. Wait... was he seeing things, or were the Octi's eyes closed?

"Nah." He slowly got up from the bedroll he'd thrown down on the floor. It wasn't very comfortable, even compared to the couch he normally slept on, but he wanted to be there when Boomer woke up. He wanted to at least be close to him. It was sort of an obligation. "So... can't sleep, eh? Why come in here?"

Bubbles didn't answer; instead she floated over to him. Butch backed off nervously at the look in her eyes. "Hey... what do ya think yer doin?"

"Sssh." Dropping Octi, she held his chin in her hands, gently. "You're dreaming. Go back to sleep."

His eyes suddenly felt very heavy. "...sleep?"

"Go. To. Sleep."

"sleeeeppp..." His eyes closed and he fell backwards, limply. Bubbles smirked, and brushed off her hands.

"Still got it." She looked down at him and licked her lips. "Such a delicious young boy, too. Another time, perhaps. For now..." She floated over to the metal cylinder that held Boomer in its confines. Without hesitation, she held up her hand, touched its surface, and inhaled deeply. "Ah... yes. Much better."

Scooping up the Octi doll, she checked to make sure its eyes were closed. Still smiling, she headed for the door and made an exit. Upstairs, Bubbles inched back under the covers, and holding her plushy tightly, went back to sleep. For Blossom, however, after what she had just seen, sleep was a long time in coming.

* * *

"Let's look at things rationally... What do we... what do I know so far?"

Blossom tapped the eraser end of the pencil against her chin as she thought. Her eyes wandered slightly, to down in the Training Hall, where Butch and Buttercup were talking and fighting a recreation of the Justice League on a medium-low difficulty setting. The two seemed to enjoy beating up on role models, apparently. Still, up in the control room, it gave Blossom a chance for some time alone, to think and collect her thoughts.

What did she know?

She knew, or at least she thought she knew, how Brick and the Rowdyruff boys had reappeared. Brick, and his brothers, had reverted to the base Chemical X in their bodies. So, apparently, had Bunny. That Chemical X had then reacted with other ingredients, producing a 'monster.' Yet, they were all monsters - even before that. They were all products of Chemical X.

_"In your soul, my little muse... you... me... all of our kind... are monsters."_

Those were Brick's words. They were monsters, and so they had been reborn as monsters, just no longer in human guise. Their memories and personality, too, had slipped into the background. Except... Brick and Bunny had somehow remembered themselves, and in so doing, were able to 'recreate' themselves as they remembered themselves to be. Yet... that wasn't right...

Bunny, from what she had learned through Brick's memories - likely a side effect of the bonding they had shared or something similar - the Bunny he knew had not looked like the Bunny Blossom and the other Powerpuff Girls had created. She had been reborn as she wanted to be, not as she had been. That was an important distinction.

But Brick had killed her.

She had been driven insane by the experience, Brick had said as much, and he could not lie to her in her own mind. He had killed her, and then found and recreated his brothers, not of their own volition, but of his... had they then been products of Brick's memories and not their own? Were they what Brick wanted them to be, or where they what they had been?

Or... maybe... they were some combination of the two?

Writing as she ruminated and pondered, Blossom wrote down the possibilities that occurred to her and which led to the next problem. What was Chemical X? Where did it come from? Was it related to these creatures that had shown up, and if so, how? Had Brick been just reacting to events, or playing a greater role?

"What is Chemical X?" she wrote the question down, on the top of a fresh piece of lined paper. "What is Chemical X?"

_"Chemical X is..." Brick had sighed. "It is difficult to describe. It is a sort of super-reactant. A catalyst. Think of it as Thought and Willpower - raw Sentience given form. 'I think therefore I am.' It reacts to sequences of ingredients. Add some sugar, spice, and everything nice, and you get instant girls... or something that appears close enough to pass itself off as a girl."_

"A reactant. A catalyst." She wrote those down, under physical properties. Yet, there was so much more to Chemical X than that. Brick's persona, his memories, his knowledge, it had all been transmitted and contained... continued past death, in the form of the Chemical X that had once been in his body.

"Memories. Thoughts. Some sort of Base Neurochemical? No..." She wrote those down under a separate column: Non-physical properties. Thinking back, she remembered the effects the Chemical had on other occasions...

Mojo Jojo - injecting it into himself, becoming a colossus: a noteworthy reaction, because he already had Chemical X in his bloodstream. Princess, who had never been exposed to the chemical before, acquired superpowers, as did the overly ambitious classmates Mojo had used to try and take them out (Blossom had been keeping her eye on them ever since that little incident). Neither of which, however, had been permanent changes. The classmates' powers wore off quickly, and Princess' probably would have as well. Yet... their powers were magnified to a degree that exceeded the Powerpuff's own. Perhaps the Chemical X burnt out quickly in those two cases?

That would make the most sense.

Thinking about that, Blossom's eyes widened. "Blood!"

That was the answer! Blood! They never had Chemical X in their blood. Princess had been exposed to a concentrated 'liquid laser' version - nothing more than a supped up water gun that splashed her with the stuff. The other kids were likely affected in a similar if not identical manner. In contrast was Burnsday and the other Mercenaries that the Professor had semi-employed to try and take down the Rowdyruff Boys. The Chemical X had made them tougher, faster, stronger... but it had been given in tiny amounts. Perhaps a better example would be the case of 'Bullet,' the Powerpuff pet they'd adopted. The squirrel had developed powers like their own... unlike Twiggy, who had just mutated into a freakish... thing.

Tests on both Twiggy and Elmer Sglue, months ago, had confirmed that they'd been exposed to toxic runoff, not Chemical X. She wrote those two incidents down as comparison cases. Reviewing what she had, she tried to draw out an effective and useful conclusion.

Chemical X tended to create superpowers in human subjects... not just human subjects, but all animals, it seemed. Then again, thinking about it, Bullet hadn't ever shown the full range of Powerpuff abilities, just high-speed flight and exceptional durability. And Mojo had been affected differently as well.

"Think of it as Thought and Willpower - raw Sentience given form. 'I think therefore I am.' It reacts to sequences of ingredients." Blossom repeated what Brick had said. "Thought and Willpower. Princess wanted to be a Powerpuff Girl. Mary and the rest wanted to be like us... Powerpuff Girls... Mojo didn't. Bullet..."

If Bullet had been attacked by a Hawk, was it not unsurprising that she (or he) would want to be faster and tougher? They were all getting what they wanted. They were all becoming what they wanted to become. What was Chemical X? Where did it come from? Blossom still couldn't answer those questions, but at least she knew: What does Chemical X do?

What is its purpose?

"What is its purpose?" She wondered out loud. "Of course... that ties into where it comes from. Was it created? Found?"

She wanted to just ask the Professor. He would, she knew, have the answers. Yet she also knew he wasn't ready to tell her everything. She'd been able to squeeze some information from Miss Bellum, who seemed more sympathetic to telling them what was going on, but their father was being unusually tight lipped. It was, no doubt, something he'd "tell you when you're older."

But Blossom needed to know NOW.

Then there was the matter of those Things. They weren't monsters, she was sure of it. Not monsters as she knew them, from Monster Island... they acted differently, and Brick treated them differently. Plus, they had this 'Living Core' vulnerability, which Blossom had never even heard of before.

Antidote X.

One of them, the huge spider creature with seven legs... its blood had not only been a highly corrosive acid, but also had Antidote X in it. But why would it have Antidote X in its blood? Brick had mentioned that Antidote X was little different, structurally, from Chemical X, except in its pH. Of course, he could have been lying and said that as misinformation, but Brick always mixed some truth in his lies. Always.

Which meant he was likely telling the truth about them being similar, structurally.

"Thought and Willpower - raw Sentience given form. 'I think therefore I am.'"

Was Antidote X then non-thought? Some sort of negation, or maybe, more along the lines of a refutation. Yes: an argument, and a counterargument, equal but opposite, and thus canceling each other out. One was positive, towards change, and the other negative, towards stability.

She was so close to an answer, she could taste it.

What was Chemical X?

That was the key.

What was Chemical X? What part did it play in these things that were attacking and destroying the world? What was Brick's motivation - he had to have a hand in what was going on. He knew far too much to not to.

_"Ah, my little muse..." Brick's left hand rested on her own. "My Mneme. There are only two more tests... two more... Our kind is so close to our destiny..."_

_"I still don't understand..."_

_"Nor do I wish you to."_

"Curse you, Brick." Blossom ran a hand through her hair. Her head hurt from it all. Then, even aside from that, there was what she had seen of Bubbles the night before. Her normally harmless sister, somehow knocking Butch out, acting totally unlike herself, and then doing... something... to Boomer's stasis rejuvenation chamber or whatever the Professor called it.

Then there was the situation outside, of which she knew next to nothing...

"No, no no... Hal Jordan was the one and only Green Lantern..." Butch was smiling as he walked out of the Training Hall with Buttercup, already into some conversation only the green Powerpuff would care about.

"Butch!" Blossom called out, catching them before they got into the main part of the Professor's Lab. "Do you remember anything odd happening last night?"

"Not... not that I recall." Butch's face darkened a shade. No doubt because Boomer still hadn't woken up yet. Blossom just narrowed her eyes. It was bad enough having to deal with problems from the outside, now this... this was the last thing she needed.

* * *

Miles away, the clarion call of trumpets broke through the silence of the ruined city below. The heraldic music ushered the End. Innumerable faces, dirty and desperate, gripped by animal instincts, looked to the heavens, and as the clouds high above parted, a silhouette descended. Some wept. Others ran.

None escaped it.

(To be continued... in 'Gauntlet: Advent')


End file.
